Simple and Clean
by Skye Aerrow
Summary: Roger x Mimi. Roger takes a deep breath. The air hitches in his throat. Even here, on the couch, sitting beside Mark, he can hear the music of her voice, smell the exotic scent of her perfume, see the fire in her eyes. It’s too much.
1. The Pain and the Sorrow

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Characters**: Roger Davis, Mimi Marquez, Mark Cohen

**Summary**: He loves her… she loves him… so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says**: I actually never really intended to write a RENT fanfic anytime soon. To tell you the truth, the only real reason I wrote this was because I asked my brother if he would read a RENT fanfic if I wrote one. He said "yes", and so… here we are.

* * *

Chapter One: The Pain and the Sorrow

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

He acts as if he doesn't even see her now. When passing her on the sidewalk, he keeps his head down, acting as if he's intensely interested in the texture of New York's sidewalks. She looks at him with an odd mixture of pain and regret in her eyes. He wonders why she never says anything, never apologizes for anything she's done. He fears that, maybe, she doesn't want to.

Life's too short for any of this nonsense, a voice inside him urges. You almost lost her once. Are you really willing to risk losing her again?

He knows he isn't, but that doesn't prevent him for continuing to ignore her.

Things are so much easier this way.

Mimi sits on the edge of a bed, arms crossed over her chest as if she's hugging herself. Slowly, very slowly, she rocks back and forth, staring off into space. A wasted syringe lies there on the blanket next to her, reminding her of how pathetic she is.

A tear courses down her cheek as she thinks of Roger and how she's let him down. She curses herself for being so careless. One minute, she's on cloud nine, having the time of her life beside him and getting high off nothing but love, the next… she's lying on the floor in a cold room with an icy needle sliding into her vein.

"I can't do this anymore, Mimi. I can't just stand by and watch you throw your life away."

"Roger, please-"

"No, don't 'Roger, please' me. I thought you said you were clean. You swore you'd never go back to this. You said… you said we were safe."

"We are-"

"This isn't safe, Mimi! This-" he dashed an empty syringe against the wall- "Is _not_ safe!"

"Roger, I can change! I can go to rehab or something! I can-"

"Like I haven't heard _that_ one before!"

Mimi pulls her knees to her chest and sobs. The high was already starting to wear off, just as she'd known it would. Heroin was like a demon- it shot from the needle to your vein, partied it up in your bloodstream, crashed against your heart, stole the breath from your lungs, made you forget about everyone, everything, anything- then, it threw you down so hard that you never thought you'd get back up again, breathless, shaky, and always, _always_ wanting more. Not like love. The high she'd gotten off of loving Roger had always felt so _right_. Love had made her feel as light, happy, and carefree as much as- if not more than- drugs did, with one significant difference: it didn't leave her feeling so horrible afterwards.

Her eyes begin to burn, but she hardly notices the pain. What drug was worth losing Roger? What drug was worth losing everything she'd worked so hard to find: love, happiness, and safety? What drug was worth a broken heart, a tearstained face, a shattered soul? None.

If only she had figured that out sooner.

* * *

"Buy you a drink?"

Roger cranes his neck in the direction of the voice, shocked to see that the woman is addressing him. She's tall and blonde, maybe the kind of girl that he would normally see as attractive, but not now. Not after Mimi.

It's too soon. Women in general seem to have lost their appeal.

He just wants to be alone. Alone with his guitar, because it's the only thing he knows he can always depend on.

It won't break his heart. It won't haunt his dreams, stalk his nightmares, or plague his thoughts.

Best of all, it won't go back on its word. Ever.

"No thanks," he says.

"You play?" she indicates the guitar spread out on the bar in front of him.

"A little. I'm not very good."

He's beginning to think that going out wasn't such a good idea. Maybe Mark was wrong. Maybe he should just sling his guitar back over his shoulder and walk out of Crazy Rick's. Maybe he should just stop thinking about Mimi.

Maybe he should just stop thinking altogether.

* * *

"You're home early."

"Your powers of observation are astounding, Mr. Cohen."

"What happened? I thought…" he studies Roger's face. "Oh."

Roger lays the guitar down on the coffee table. The couch is far too inviting for him to remain standing. His hand wander over to the remote, fingers fumbling with the buttons.

The TV screen fills with blackness.

"I can't do it, Mark. Everywhere I go, I see her. Everywhere."

"Even at Crazy Rick's?"

He bows his head, hair falling into his eyes. "Yes, even at the bar."

"Holy crap."

"'Crap' pretty much sums it up."

Mark sits down beside Roger, taking off his glasses. He rubs the lenses with the bottom of his shirt.

The seconds roll by, each moment sounded by the ticking of the clock.

Roger takes a deep breath. The air hitches in his throat. Even here, on the couch, sitting beside Mark, he can hear the music of her voice, smell the exotic scent of her perfume, see the fire in her eyes.

It's too much.

"You're thinking about her," Mark says. "Don't do it, Roger. Quit."

He looks at his friend with bloodshot eyes. "If only it were that simple."

* * *

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

**Skye Also Says**: I feel as if I've committed a cardinal sin by putting lyrics to a song from Kingdom Hearts into a RENT fic. It seemed to fit though, and I hope you'll agree. If you dislike my crossing-over-without-crossing-over, maybe someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Or not. It's entirely your choice. XD

Oh, and as always, I appreciate any feedback on this. I hope to have chapters two through four up by the end of the month, so try to be patient.


	2. The Guilt and the Longing

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Characters**: Roger Davis, Mimi Marquez, Mark Cohen, Tom Collins

**Summary**: He loves her… she loves him… so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says: **I didn't think I'd be able to put chapter two up so soon, but I'm really enjoying this fic so far.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Guilt and the Longing 

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

Some nights, he lies awake with the moonlight streaming in across the sheets and the sounds of the city penetrating the thin walls. He stares up at the ceiling, naked except for a pair of boxers, and lets his thoughts run free. On nights like these, it's hard for him to remember that he's trying to forget. On nights like these, he's lucky if he can last just one minute without picturing her, one minute without seeing her face, her hair, her body. On nights like these, he gets no more than a half-hour of sleep before the blaring of Mark's alarm in the next room jars him out of his trance.

It's these nights that make Roger wonder if he made the right decision. They leave him feeling broken, filling his thoughts with anger and fear, hopelessness and uncertainty, sorrow and regret.

These nights are what are responsible for the guilt and the longing that starve him and drive him insane, leaving him weak-kneed and trembling for days on end.

It's these nights that make Mark wonder if he's going to lose his best friend to depression.

* * *

Nighttime is considerably kinder to her. Sleep brings unconsciousness, and with unconsciousness comes a reprieve. Mimi always looks forward to nighttime, and now that she no longer works at the Catscratch Club, she can go to bed as soon as she pleases. On bad nights, her bedtime is ten. On a good night, it varies anywhere from midnight to five in the morning.

She can't even remember the last time she went to bed after midnight.

Unlike Roger, she drops off to sleep in seconds, seemingly at peace with the world.

Seemingly.

She dreams of nothing but a blonde man and his guitar. His voice pleads with her, calls to her, embraces her. It's everywhere she turns, filling the air with the same, bittersweet melody every time.

"_Who do you think you are/_

_Leaving me alone with my guitar?"_

She wakes up at the crack of dawn and finds her pillow soaked. Her eyes are swollen, her throat sore.

She isn't sure how much more of this she can take.

As much as it pains her to admit it, there's only one thing she can depend on now. Ironically, it's the one thing that banished the last thing she thought she could depend on.

Her shaking hands collapse on a clean syringe, and she feels the guilt settle in her gut.

By the time she fills the syringe, she's crying so hard that she can't even see the needle.

* * *

Mark decides that they should go see Tom, even if they don't stay for very long. He feels that the fresh air will do Roger some good, and maybe a conversation from Tom will shift the songwriter's thoughts away from Mimi.

They sit in silence as the subway nears their stop.

"Which apartment is it, again?"

"Dunno. He's living with someone else now." There's jealousy in Roger's voice. It amazes him that some people could get back on the horse so quickly.

"Come on, Rog. Don't be that way… it's been two whole years since Angel died. Collins needs a healthy relationship."

Roger stares out the window as the tunnel goes whizzing by.

The train slows to a stop. It's three o'clock by the time they find Tom's apartment building- Collins isn't one to give flawless directions- and both Mark and Roger feel like they've just wasted three hours of their life. They walk up several flights of stairs to apartment 4B, and Mark raps on the door thrice.

"I'll get it," calls an unfamiliar voice from inside.

Roger sighs.

He _definitely_ should've stayed home.

The door opens, and a tall African-American… _woman_ ushers Mark and Roger inside. "Have a seat, boys. You must be Tommy's friends," she chirps happily. "I'm Aretha, Aretha Martin. He's in the bedroom, I think. Let me go get him."

Mark and Roger exchange stunned glances as Aretha disappears down the hall.

"Was that a… _woman_?" Mark asks.

"I guess so," Roger replies.

They sit in silence until Collins himself rises from the shadows at the end of the hall and stumbles towards them, looking groggy. The minute he sees Mark and Roger, his eyes light up.

"Aretha, baby, I'd like you to meet Mark Cohen and Roger Davis."

They shake her hand, and then sit back down, glancing at Tom anxiously.

Collins goes to the kitchen and brings out two chairs. He offers Aretha one before settling into the other himself, and the gesture sends a pang of jealousy down Roger's spine.

_I used to do that for Mimi every time I saw her._

"So, Collins," Mark breaks in, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Aretha certainly is… lovely."

_You mean _female, Roger muses internally.

"Why, thank you, Mark," he beams at Aretha proudly. "We've been dating for four months."

"Congratulations."

"Yeah, good for you."

Mark stares at Roger, curious. The songwriter's lack of interest is all too apparent.

"Really," Roger adds, in hopes of reassuring Mark. "Good for you, Collins."

Aretha laughs, a light, bell-like sound, breaking the tension. She fixes her warm brown eyes on Mark as a grin spreads itself across her face. "So, Mark… what's this I hear about you being a filmmaker?"

He glances down at the camera on his lap. Why did Collins have to tell her _that_? She'd probably ask to see some of his work next, and the only thing he had with him was _Proof Positive_…

"Mark? Are you all right?"

The filmmaker blinks and looks up at Aretha, whose neatly-manicured eyebrows are drawn down in concern. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. Just… reminiscing."

"Yeah, he's a filmmaker," Collins butts in. "And a good one, too."

"No, I'm not. Not that good."

"Come on, Cohen. Don't belittle yourself like that."

"I'm sure you're a fine filmmaker," Aretha encourages.

"I'm really not," Mark tries.

Roger catches on. "He really isn't, Miss Martin."

Tom grunts. "What is this, National Let's All Put Down Mark Cohen's Work Day? Seriously, Mark… why don't you just show Aretha a little something of yours?"

Uh-oh. He was in deep trouble now. The _Proof Positive_ tape seemed to be emitting a foul stench from its place inside his messenger bag. Uncertainty twists his gut as he turns to Roger, keeping his voice low. "I can't do this, Roger. I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?" Roger hisses. "Collins isn't going to take 'no' for an answer. Don't you have anything with you?"

"Yeah, but… it's the AIDS video thing."

"Oh. Crap."

Mark exhales loudly. "What should I do? I don't want-"

"Is it in here?" Tom asks suddenly, holding up Mark's messenger bag.

The blood drains from Cohen's face. "No. I think I left it at-"

"There's a tape," Aretha says helpfully.

Roger swears under his breath.

"All right. I'll put this in. Here we go…"

The screen lights up, and Mark scowls as he hears his own voice on the tape. "_Proof Positive_, a film by Mark Cohen."

Tom blinks hard.

Roger stands and excuses himself to the bathroom.

Aretha and Tom stare at the screen intently. Several images in the video make Collins bite his lip, but none affects him so strongly as the one that floats up on the screen next, one Mark had added only a few days after Angel's death.

"Angel, in your opinion, what is love?" Mark heard himself ask.

The man laughs musically, a smirk on his painted lips as he straightens his skirt and winks at someone off-screen. "Um… love is… love is when you can't eat, can't sleep, can't think- can't do anything except be with your significant other."

Collins waltzes into view, kissing Angel on the cheek.

Angel smiles and takes his hand. "Love is knowing what the other person is feeling even when you don't even know what _you're_ feeling."

"Love is without judgment, without conditions," Collins adds.

"_This _is love."

Mark curses and buries his face in his hands as Angel pulls Collins into a kiss.

The real Collins shudders and cries out.

Roger emerges from the bathroom just as Tom begins to cry.

"We'll see ourselves out," Mark says quietly. "It was nice meeting you, Aretha."

* * *

That night, Roger lies awake with the moonlight streaming in across the sheets and the sounds of the city penetrating the thin walls. He stares up at the ceiling, naked except for a pair of boxers, and lets his thoughts run free. Just like every other night, it's hard for him to remember that he's trying to forget. He knows he'll be lucky if he can last just one minute without picturing _her_, one minute without seeing her face, her hair, her body. Instinctively, he knows he won't get any more than a half-hour of sleep before the blaring of Mark's alarm in the next room jars him out of his trance.

Again, Roger wonders if he made the right decision. He feels broken, his thoughts filled with anger and fear, hopelessness and uncertainty, sorrow and regret.

The guilt and the longing are starving him and driving him insane, leaving him weak-kneed and trembling for days on end.

As Roger curses and turns over, Mark hears the creaking of bedsprings and wonders if there's any way he can help the songwriter.

"Tomorrow," Mark whispers as he sets his alarm and pulls the blankets up over his chest. "I'll find a way to make him happy again."

* * *

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

**Skye Also Says**: For once, I don't have anything else to say. Wow. Review, if you have time, if not, hey, I'm cool with that.


	3. Life Goes On

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Characters**: Roger, Mimi, Mark,

**Summary**: He loves her… she loves him… so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says: **Chapter Three already? Wow. Time flies when you're having fun.

* * *

Chapter Three: Life Goes On

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple _

* * *

It's getting easier now- forgetting her. Every day, it gets easier. Lately, he only thinks about her once or twice a week, and then, when he _is _thinking of her, he finds he can do so without feeling like he's pouring salt into an open wound.

Mark seems to be quite pleased with this development. He's obviously thrilled to have the old Roger back, and this becomes apparent from the way he smiles at Roger every time he sees him.

It _is _getting easier, but sometimes… sometimes it seems harder than he'd ever imagined it would be.

Three long months have passed since he last saw Mimi Marquez in person. Three long months have passed since his heart shattered, dragging most of Roger's will to live down with it. Despite the passage of time, the nightmares still come. Now, though, the guitar player finds that he's able to brush them off with minimal difficulty.

Mark himself isn't going through life completely unscathed. Ever since the _Proof Positive _incident at Collin's apartment, he hasn't been able to talk to Tom. Not only that, but he finds that he's in a serious creative slump, and it seems like he can't record more than two minutes of film before giving up and deeming it a lost cause.

Roger likes to think that it isn't his fault, but he knows his bad mood is contagious. He wishes, more than anything, that he could just wake up one morning, go into the living room, and tell Mark he's sorry, but he knows he can't. He can't just apologize, because he himself needs to heal first. Without being able to face himself, he honestly can't face Mark.

So, Roger goes on living what remains of his life. Day by day, it gets a little easier, but still, the pain remains, clinging to his broken soul like a wet pair of jeans.

Life goes on.

* * *

Mimi deals with the pain by dancing, the only thing she's ever really been good at. Besides heroin, it's the only thing in this cruel world that ever makes her feel what some might call "happiness".

Roger had once made her feel happy. When she was around him, she forgot all about the drugs and the way she felt just before coming down from a high. Then again, when she was with Roger, she hadn't _needed_ drugs- they'd both been high on _love_.

Love. When it came right down to it, "love" was a four-letter word, just like all the others. In her opinion, it deserved to be banned from ever being spoken aloud, let alone felt by a person. Things would surely be better off without it.

Mimi finds now that love may not even exist anymore. Many of the hollow relationships she enters into with men she meets at the club- a brand new club called Phunk- give her nothing but pain. Most of these men want nothing but to be able to sleep with her, offering her drugs and money and several other things in exchange for her attention. She turns most of these down, because she can't sleep with _anyone_ without seeing Roger's face in her mind. As a result, most of these "relationships" don't last longer than an hour or two.

She isn't doing drugs anymore. Oh, sure, she goes back to her needles about once or twice a week, but that's only because she fears the awful symptoms of withdrawal. The injections give her no pleasure anymore. In fact, she shakes the entire time she's shooting up, often crying her eyes out after the madness is over.

Roger, Roger, Roger. It's been what, three months since she last talked to Roger? Things aren't getting any easier, as she'd originally thought they would. Life's only getting harder, and now, she can't go a single second without seeing his eyes, hearing his laugh, or having the painful fragment of a melody float through her mind:

"_Who do you think you are?/_

_Leaving me alone with my guitar?"_

Life goes on.

* * *

"I had an idea, Roger," Mark announces over dinner, which happens to be pizza. Again.

"Enlighten me, oh great one."

Mark rolls his eyes behind his glasses. "We should take a walk or something. You know, to relieve some stress."

Mark laughs hollowly. "You honestly believe walking around an insanely crowding city and trying not to get hit by crazed taxi drivers is going to relieve some of our stress?"

"I thought we could go to Crazy Rick's or something."

"Crazy Rick's?" Roger shoots him a skeptical glance. "You must be joking."

"I was."

A brief silence ensues.

"We could go to a club…" Mark suggests, but he's really only grasping now.

"I'm going to bed."

* * *

"Hey, Mom."

"Mimi! How are you?"

"Oh, Mom… I'm terrible."

"Terrible?"

"I'll be fine, though. I think.

"Mimi…"

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm fine. Don't forget to call Carlos, okay?"

"Okay, baby. Call me every once in awhile."

"Of course. Bye."

"Goodbye."

* * *

"Hey, Mark.""Mimi, how did you get this number?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it-"

"Listen to me, Mark! I _need_ to talk to Roger!"

"Well, he's not here right now. He's… um, in the shower. Yeah, the shower."

"You're lying. I can hear a guitar playing in the background."

"Look, Mimi… it would be better for everyone if you _didn't_ talk to Roger."

"Mark, please, I have to-"

"You've done enough damage already-"

"Mark, just let me-"

"Later, Mimi."

_Click_.

* * *

"Mom, it's me."

"Mimi, what's going on?"

"I'm going back to Spain."

"You're coming back here?"

"Yes, Mom. I'll see you."

"Goodbye. I'll see you soon."

* * *

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

**Skye Also Says:** If anyone wants to know what gave me the idea that Mimi is from Spain, I got that from this line, which is part of the song "Out Tonight":

"_Feels too damn much like home/_

_When the Spanish babies cry."_

As always, reviews, questions, comments, etcetera are much appreciated.

Hopefully, I'll have Chapter Four up reasonably soon.


	4. The Thoughts and the Feelings

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Characters**: Roger, Mimi, Mark

**Summary**: He loves her… she loves him… so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says: **Chapter Four, baby.

* * *

Chapter Four: The Thoughts and the Feelings

"_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple "_

* * *

Mimi sits in the fourteenth row on flight 104 to Barcelona, her hometown. Teresa Marquez is surely thrilled by her daughter's decision to return to Spain, but is Ricardo half as thrilled? Doubtful.

Sighing, Mimi leans back in her seat and tries to relax. Her abusive, alcoholic father is the reason she left Spain in the first place. Her mother constantly assures her that he's changed, but… after what happened all those years ago, she finds it hard to believe.

"Mimi, he wants to tell you… he wants to tell you that he's sorry," Teresa pleads.

"If he was really sorry, Mom, he wouldn't have done it in the first place."

Memories. Lately, memories are nothing but her enemy- something to be discouraged, rather than embraced. Still, despite her best efforts, fragments of the memory still somehow manage to get at her: her mother, standing before Ricardo with tears streaming down her cheeks, begging her husband to snap out of it.

Ricardo, yelling, screaming, cursing, raging. Telling Carlos he'll never be good enough, and that he's a waste of oxygen. Telling Mimi she's a filthy little whore. Swearing some more, slurring every word.

Carlos, telling Mimi to run, to get away from the house, maybe go stay with a friend.

Mimi, crying, shaking, sobbing. Telling Ricardo to leave Teresa alone.

Ricardo screaming again, swearing at Mimi.

Carlos, demanding that Ricardo back off.

Ricardo punching his son in the face. Teresa, horrified, trying to pull her husband off of her child.

"Ma'am, would you like anything to drink?"

Mimi blinks, biting her lip. She stares at the stewardess, tears blurring her vision. "Um… just some water, please."

"All right." The flight attendant studies her carefully. Mimi wishes she'd leave. "Let me know if you need anything."

Ricardo turning and landing a blow to his wife's nose, breaking it. Mimi, screaming and searching for the phone as Carlos tries to save his mother. Teresa whimpers, sobbing and trying to plead with Ricardo. He punches her in the stomach, and she crumples to the ground.

Mimi, fainting. Waking up in a clean-smelling hospital bed.

Fragments of a conversation between her and Carlos.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't watch him destroy our lives."

"Mimi… Mom isn't going to like this."

"Carlos, I don't care if Mom likes it or not! After what happened last week, I can't even bear to_ look_ at the monster she calls her 'husband'!"

"I know, Mimi. I understand. But… you're only sixteen! What about school? What about- where are you going to live?"

"With you, Carlos. I'll live with you, in Mexico. And, as for school… I hate it, anyway. I'll drop out. Whatever. I just… I _can't_ stay in Barcelona."

"Alright. You can stay with me. Normally, I'd tell you that you were being ridiculous, but, under theses circumstances, I can definitely understand how you feel. I love you, Mimi."

"I love you, too, Carlos."

"Here's your water, ma'am."

Mimi jumps at the sound of the flight attendant's voice. "O-oh."

The woman looks just as dazed as Mimi. "You… you're crying. Is everything-"

"I'm fine." Angrily, Mimi wipes at her eyes. God, she does _not_ need this right now. "Thank you."

The woman hands Mimi her drink and sighs, shaking her head as she walks away.

Mimi takes a long slow sip of water and tries to hold back the tears. Memories as strong and as bitterly painful as this one affect her almost as strongly as drugs, only memories aren't something she gets any kind of high from.

* * *

"Mimi called."

Roger freezes, pausing mid-chew. All of a sudden, the chicken lo mein he's eating loses all flavor. "_Who_ called?"

"Mimi Marquez. You know, your…" Mark swallows. "Yeah."

"What did she want?"

"To talk to you, I guess."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Mark lowers his eyes. "I didn't think she meant anything to you anymore."

"She doesn't."

The filmmaker looks right at Roger. His gaze is so intense, it practically smolders. "Then, why does it matter to you if she called?"

Roger swears and slams the takeout container down on the table, walking towards his bedroom. Unbidden, a strange knife of nostalgia twists his heart. He curses again.

Feelings. They're worse than the memories, but not by much. Feelings remind him that no matter where he runs, no matter where he hides, he can never escape the fact that he was once madly in love with the woman he's cast out of his life. They remind him, above all things, that he can't go on living like this- that, unless he does something about this bitter emptiness consuming his soul, he'll end up destroying himself.

"Roger!" Mark calls after him. He sounds desperate, pleading… apologetic. Roger knows his friend only wants what's best for him, but… maybe what he thinks is best for the songwriter is actually the very thing he cannot bear to face.

The door slams a millisecond before Mark reaches it.

Roger falls back on the bed.

He just wants to be alone. Alone with his guitar, because it's the only thing he knows he can always depend on.

It won't break his heart. It won't haunt his dreams, stalk his nightmares, or plague his thoughts.

Best of all, it won't try to worm its way back to his feelings, where it definitely doesn't belong.

He's beginning to think that he should get up off his butt and open the door. Maybe Mark really does just want to help.

Maybe he should tell Mark what's really going on. Maybe he should reveal his doubts.

Maybe he should just stop thinking about this whole mess.

Maybe he should just stop thinking altogether.

* * *

Mimi has never been so happy to see solid ground in her life.

The plane taxis in Madrid. She takes a bus to Barcelona.

Everything is a blur of worry, fear, anxiousness, and memories.

Hours later, she arrives at the Marquez residence.

Teresa stands at the gate, arms open wide.

Mimi can only hope Ricardo will be so welcoming.

* * *

"_I can't do this anymore, Mimi. I can't just stand by and watch you throw your life away."_

A tear courses down Roger's cheek. Crying? He can't even remember the last time he's cried like this. Not since April died, at least.

"_No, don't 'Roger, please' me. I thought you said you were clean. You swore you'd never go back to this. You said… you said we were safe."_

How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn't he noticed it sooner?

"_This isn't safe, Mimi! This is_ not_ safe!"_

He's loved her all along. No matter what she does, no matter where she goes, he'll _always_ love her. It's never going to end.

The only way he'll ever be able to sleep at night is with Mimi right beside him. Then, living won't be so painful.

"_Like I haven't heard _that_ one before!"_

God, he was so unbelievably _stupid_!

"_Excuse me if I'm off track,_

_But if you're so wise, then tell me,_

_Why do you need smack?_

_Take your needle, take your fancy prayer,_

_And don't forget- get the moonlight out of your hair!_

_Long ago you might've lit up my heart,_

_But the fire's dead, ain't never ever gonna start!"_

She was willing to change. She said she was going to get help.

He hadn't even given her a chance.

"_Another time,_

_Another place,_

_Our temperature would climb,_

_There'd be a long embrace._

_We'd do another dance,_

_It'd be another play-_

_Looking for romance?_

_Come back another day, another day!"_

"Mimi, oh, God, Mimi… forgive me.

"Mark! Do you know where Mimi works now?"

* * *

Three days in her old house have made her realize that she still isn't willing to forgive the man who married her mother. He obviously hasn't changed, judging by the way he glares at everyone and swears for no apparent reason. As for him wanting to apologize to her… Teresa must have been lying. All Ricardo has said so far is, "Oh, the whore's back, is she?"

She tries to avoid contact with Ricardo and her mother as much as she can. Being in this house makes her long for some heroin, but deep down, she knows that she wouldn't even be able to bring herself to shoot up.

She can't stop thinking about Roger.

Mimi sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over her chest as if she's hugging herself. Slowly, very slowly, she rocks back and forth, staring off into space. A wasted life, that's what she is.

A tear courses down her cheek as she thinks of Roger and how she's let him down. She curses herself for being so careless. One minute, she's on cloud nine, having the time of her life beside him and getting high off nothing but love, the next… she's off on her own again, her life a meaningless hell on earth.

Her eyes begin to burn, but she hardly notices the pain. What was worth losing Roger? What was worth losing everything she'd worked so hard to find: love, happiness, and safety? What drug was worth a broken heart, a tearstained face, a shattered soul? Nothing.

If only she had figured that out sooner.

* * *

"Barcelona? As in Spain?"

"Yeah, that's the place. She left a few days ago, though, so you might want to hurry up and get yourself to the airport. Unless you'd rather stay here and keep me company…"

Roger rises from the barstool. Phunk, the new club where Mimi works, is seedier than even the Catscratch Club. He doesn't doubt that this woman across from him, Mimi's "friend" Nina, wants more from him than company. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Some other time, maybe?"

"I don't think so."

He walks out of Phunk feeling strangely hopeful. So… Mimi's in Barcelona. Not exactly close, but close enough. Maybe he can get Benny to loan him a few dollars so he can hop the next flight to Madrid…

* * *

"_Roger, please-"_

Angry sobs rack Mimi's body. Crying? She should be used to this kind of pain by now.

"_We are-"_

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't she realized it earlier?

"_Roger, I can change! I can go to rehab or something! I can-"_

She's loved him all along. More than the drugs, more than dancing, more than any artificial high, she loves him. She'll _always _love him.

She won't be able to rest easy unless she's lying in his arms. Loving him is the only thing that can ease the pain.

"_The heart may freeze, or it can burn_

_The pain will ease if I can learn_

_There is no future, there is no past,_

_I live this moment as my last._

_There's only us,_

_There's only this,_

_Forget regret, or life is yours to miss._

_No other road, no other way,_

_No day but today."_

Back then… he'd been so reluctant to let his feelings take control. Was he still the same man he'd been? Was he still afraid to let his heart lead his mind?

Would he be willing to give her another chance?

"_There's only 'yes',_

_Only tonight._

_We must let go to know what's right._

_No other course,_

_No other way,_

_No day but today."_

She'll never know unless she tries. "Mama! Where's the telephone?"

* * *

"_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple "_

* * *

**Skye Also Says: **Thanks for all the reviews, everyone.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	5. The Worries and the Wishes

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Characters**: Roger, Mimi

**Summary**: He loves her… she loves him… so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says: **I'm on a roll now.

* * *

Chapter Five: The Worries and the Wishes

"_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple "_

* * *

Roger sits in the seventh row on flight 104 to Madrid. He never thought he'd be on his way to Spain, especially when he's going to Spain to find Mimi and tell her how he really feels.

Sighing, Roger leans back in his seat and tries to relax. Mark thinks he's insane for doing this, but he says he understands. After all, he's seen the anguish Roger's suffered over the past few months, so he knows how torturous life is for the songwriter. He did warn Roger, however, that he should wait, "just in case Mimi doesn't feel the same way", but Roger wasn't hearing any of it. His mind and heart were made up, and he was going to Barcelona even if it meant he had to swim across the Atlantic to get there.

"Sir, would you like something to drink?"

Roger looks up at the flight attendant. She looks so much like Mimi that he feels butterflies swarming in his stomach, then he realizes that there's no way this woman can be Mimi. She has blue eyes, after all. Reflexively, a smile graces his lips. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll have some water."

The woman smiles back at him. "All right. One glass of ice-cold water, coming right up."

The minute she leaves, Roger thinks back to his visit to Phunk. He remembers the poles on the stage, the dance cages, the provocative posters, and Nina, and wonders how in the world Mimi ever ended up in a place like that. Sure, the Catscratch Club was no church, but at least their employees weren't all hookers.

Vaguely, Roger's mind drifts. If Mimi was dancing at Phunk, making little more than minimum wage, and if she had to pay for rent and food and drugs… there was a good chance that she'd also resorted to prostitution. Selling her body for money… god, he'd never be able to live with himself if she'd gotten hurt because he hadn't been around to protect her.

_Who knows what she's been through these past few weeks,_ Roger muses. _Compared to her life after we broke up… I'll bet mine was a cakewalk._

"Here's your water, sir. Let me know if you need anything else, 'kay?"

Roger nods and takes the glass from the woman. It's so cold that the glass is already sweating, and some of the condensation manages to drip onto his shirt. _Oh, well… it's just water. Having wet spots on my clothes is the least of my worries right now._

Worries. If there is one thing Roger has in abundance, it's worries. These include his worry that he wouldn't be able to find Mimi, that she'd reject him, that they'd never be able to have what they once had, and the worry that Mark was making a movie that involved scenes of Roger sleeping, walking around in his underwear, and talking with his mouth full.

Mimi isn't going to reject him, he's sure of it. She was been the one begging him to stay, after all, and there 's no way she's moved on by now. She isn't as quick of a healer as Roger, and he's still suffering, three whole months after the breakup.

If she doesn't, though… god, he doesn't even want to consider that.

* * *

Roger isn't home.

Mimi had spent ten minutes racking her brain for his phone number, and then, when she'd finally summoned up the courage to call, she'd heard the familiar "Speak!". Either Roger and Mark weren't home, or they were choosing not to pick up.

Wishing. She wishes Roger was with her. She wishes, more than anything, that he'll hold her again and tell her that he loves her and that everything is going to be alright.

She wishes for forgiveness, especially when she's hurt him. She wishes he'll let her back into his life, because she knows she can't possibly live without him.

She's wished for a lot of things in her life- freedom, money, fame- but all she wants now is Roger's love.

On the way back to her bedroom, she hears her name called

Actually, it's more of a variation of her name, but it's a name she's come to answer to.

"Hey, whore. Come here."

Ricardo Marquez is sitting on the sofa, watching a Spanish game show. He looks drunk, but that isn't surprising.

Mimi swallows. Her mother has gone out to buy dinner and won't be back for some time. She can't remember how to say "screw you" in Spanish, so she settles for something a little less aggressive. "No."

Ricardo doesn't take that very well. "_Get your butt over here before I come over there and get you!"_

Instinctively, Mimi approaches him, training her eyes on the floor. Whatever she does, she's determined _not_ to make eye contact with this monster of a man. "What do you want?"

"Don't take that tone with me, slut! I just want to have a friendly little chat with you."

Bull crap. Ricardo isn't capable of talking like a civilized human being. "Oh, yeah? Well, I'm not feeling very talkative-"

"_Sit_ _down_!" He grabs her arm and yanks her down beside him.

Despite her best wishes, Mimi begins to tremble. At fifty-two, Ricardo is much less powerful than he once was, but there's a good chance he could still hurt Mimi if he really wanted to. She keeps this in mind. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why you left this house. What, were we not good enough for you? Was your family too poor? Was the house too small?" His voice rises in volume as he begins to rant, jabbing his index finger at Mimi's face for emphasis. "Spain too lousy for you? Rather be in filthy Mexico with that good-for-nothing brother of yours?" Ricardo swears, standing. His face is red, his voice trembling. "_You're a disgusting little whore with no loyalty, you know that?"_

Mimi opens her mouth to speak and is silenced by Ricardo's fist. The force of the blow has her seeing stars as she slumps over on the couch. Desperately, she crawls towards the floor, scrambling to get away from her father.

"You were a freaking mistake, you scandalized slut! When Teresa said she was pregnant with you, I told her to get a freaking abortion!"

Mimi whimpers as his fist crashes against her temple. She rolls onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Her eye begins to swell. Blackness is creeping into her line of vision.

Ricardo leans over her, scowling. _"You're a freaking waste of oxygen."_

Another punch.

The world dissolves into blackness.

* * *

"_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple "_

* * *

**Skye Also Says: **I'm sorry this is short, but the next part's going to be extremely long and hard to write. I don't know when I'll have it up, either, since I have play rehearsal for The Wizard of Oz all week. I'll try and get it up as soon as I can, though.


	6. Hope and Happiness

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/ Romance

**Characters**: Roger, Mimi, Mark

**Summary**: He loves her... she loves him... so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says:** I'm going to try and wrap this thing up soon, but don't get your hopes up. School starts back up in a week, and on top of homework, I'll have auditions and rehearsals.

I love you guys, though. I don't know if I mentioned that. I ESPECIALLY love those of you that sent me such fantastic reviews... it really means a lot to me.

Please, keep 'em coming. :)

* * *

Chapter Six: Hope and Happiness

_Wish I could prove _

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

_Mimi wakes to a blinding white light._

_Angel steps out into the light, shielding Mimi's eyes with his shadow- with her shadow. She smiles at Mimi, and a pleasant warmth pervades the light._

_Still, Mimi feels cold._

_"Sweetheart, we have _got_ to stop meeting like this."_

_"Where am I?" Mimi asks, already knowing the answer. Fear knots in her... soul._

_She's been here before._

_"You _know_ where you are," Angel replies, just as Mimi knew she would. "My God, Mimi. Someone really effed up your gorgeous face." Tenderly, she reaches out to touch Mimi's cheek._

_Mimi can't feel it. She wants to cry when she realizes she can't feel it, too, but she isn't entirely sure why. Is she upset because Angel is being so tender, because she can't feel her, or because..._

_No. She won't admit _that_ one. Not yet._

_"Guess you aren't here 'cause of drugs this time, huh?"_

_"Oh, God." Mimi screws her eyes shut, unable to breathe. It's only then that she realizes she hasn't been breathing. Or blinking._

_Or _living_._

_She chokes back a sob, realizing that there's no use crying. It's too late._

_"It's true, then? I'm..."_

_"Dead," Angel whispers, smiling sadly and pushing Mimi's hair out of her face. "Again."_

_Her hands clench into fists at her sides as she begins to sob. Angel pulls her into a tight hug, holding her against her chest. Her flat chest. This makes Mimi even more upset, and she buries her face in Angel's broad shoulder, crying as she's never cried before._

_"It hurts," she breathes. "Oh, Angel. It _hurts_."_

_"Ssh... There, there, honey. Just go ahead and let it all out." She rubs Mimi's back, trying to calm her down. "They say there are no tears in heaven... oh, Lord, if only _that_ were true."_

_Mimi finally settles down and steps away from Angel. She blinks. "I... I didn't feel that."_

_Angel's brow furrows. "Really? Hm. That's the same thing you said last time." She crosses her arms, staring at Mimi intently. "Maybe it means you're not here to stay."_

_Not here to stay? Not here to _stay_? Does that mean what Mimi thinks it means? Angel was right- she hadn't been able to feel anything the last time, either. And the last time..._

_"I'm going _back_?" Mimi asks anxiously. "I'm going to get the chance to live again?"_

_"Someone up here must really like you."_

_Mimi smirks. Not many people got a second chance at life; never mind a_ third_._ _She can't believe it, "Well, then, just in case I go back in the next two minutes, I just want you to know that I love you."_

_"I love you, too, girl," Angel says. "Maybe not as much as that _songwriter_, though."_

_Mimi raises an eyebrow._

_" Don't worry about that. You'll see when you wake up-""_

_Angel vanishes instantly. The light intensifies again, bringing a stinging heat. Mimi screams as the pain comes, the light fades, and she finds herself being ripped from the afterlife._

* * *

Roger sits beside Mimi's bed, gripping her cold hand. Three days have passed since he found Mimi on the floor at her house. Her father, Ricardo, had been standing over her, swearing as he repeatedly kicked her in the head. Outraged, Roger had jumped on the man and beaten him senseless- with a strength he hadn't known he'd possessed- before calling an ambulance and cradling Mimi's broken body in his arms while he waited for help to arrive.

Dr. Lopez said she had lapsed into a coma. Mimi had sustained several internal injuries as well as some near-fatal head wounds. It would be a miracle if she came out of this alive.

Since the day he'd heard those words, Roger refuses to leave Mimi's bedside, watching her as she slept, whispering things he'd longed to tell her, holding her hand, and crying. He's done quite a bit of crying in the past seventy-two hours.

Still nothing. Mimi hasn't stirred, nor has she given any indication of doing so any time in the near future. Roger is desperately persuading the doctors to keep her on life support for as long as is necessary, but as he's not her legal guardian or immediate family, he isn't the one with the ultimate decision.

_That_ man is Ricardo, who is currently in jail awaiting trial. Roger knows that if Ricardo has to make the choice to keep Mimi alive or not, there'll be a DO NOT RESUSCITATE comment on her medical chart before anyone can blink.

Another tear slips down Roger's cheek.

Hope. Hope is the only thing keeping him alive right now. Without hope, without believing that things _will_ get better, that things _are _going to improve, without thinking that everything is going to turn our right, he won't be able to make it. If he dwells too much on the present, he'll die.

And then what?

"Mimi," he whispers, "I love you."

Her eyelids flutter, then open slowly.

Roger sucks in a breath. This can't be happening.

"I mean it, I _love_ you."

She recognizes him, smiling gently. He feels a slightly pressure on his fingers. "I know."

"Will you marry me?"

Happiness. Mimi has never known such lightness, such joy, such _bliss_ as she feels whenever she's around Roger. Now, as she looks over at him and notices he's been crying, she feels the same inescapable happiness she's always experienced with them.

That's when she realizes she'll never be able to live without him.

Mimi reaches up and strokes his cheek, murmuring the sweetest words Roger has ever heard:

"Of _course_."

And then, even though Roger doesn't want to share this moment with anyone else, he hits the CALL button to summon the doctor.

* * *

_Wish I could prove _

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

**Skye Also Says: **I'm sorry. I know it isn't nearly as long as I said it would be, but I thought it needed to end here. This is the second to the last chapter, too, by the way, not counting the epilogue.


	7. Back To The City

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/ Romance

**Characters**: Roger, Mimi, Mark

**Summary**: He loves her... she loves him... so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says**: Last chapter before the epilogue, ladies and gentleman.

Thanks again for your support!

* * *

Chapter Seven: Back to the City 

_"Wish I could prove _

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple"_

* * *

Back to the city.

The minute Roger and Mimi step off the plane, both are hit by identical waves of anticipation- a happy, lighthearted anticipation. Clearly, there's something very positive in store for the couple.

Roger grins at his new fiancee as they enter the terminal to find that Mark, Tom, Benny, Joanne, Maureen, and Aretha are right there waiting for them. "Hey, guys! We're back!"

Mark practically tackles Roger, grabbing him up into a hug so tight Roger can't breathe. "Whoa, Cohen. Easy on the lungs- ow." He smiles as Mark releases him, pounding the filmmaker on the back. "Good to see you again, pal."

"Likewise," Mark says happily before hurrying over to Mimi and giving her a less-manly version of the hug.

"It's a shame you two didn't make it back in time for the wedding," Aretha says, standing on tiptoe to kiss Tom on the cheek. Tom winks at Roger and puts him arm around his new wife.

"Aretha," Roger says. "I'd like you to meet Mimi Marquez. Mimi, this is Aretha Martin."

Aretha giggles and shakes Mimi's hand. "It's Aretha _Collins_ now."

Mimi glances at Roger before replying. "And soon I'll be Mimi _Davis._" The couple beams at each other, Roger bending down to kiss his fiancee's forehead.

A stunned hush falls over the group. Everyone stares at Mimi expectantly before letting their eyes drift to Roger. Almost spontaneously, they all get it. Enormous grins split the friends' faces.

"Oh my _God!_ You're getting committed!" Maureen shrieks.

Joanne kisses her hand. "Married, baby. They're straight, remember?"

"Well, Pookie, it's still the same thing."

"Married! _Married!_" Benny gives Roger a high-five, laughing and shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Congratulations, you two," Tom and Aretha chorus simultaneously. They exchange glances and burst into laughter, kissing each other almost violently.

"Hey! Get a room!" Mark laughs, too, and shoves his hands in his pockets as he turns to Roger and Mimi. "Where are you two going to live, huh?"

"What are you talking about, Cohen? We're going to share the apartment with you."

"Really? Good luck trying to get away with the late-night wrestling sessions without ending up on tape."

Despite her work as a club dancer, Mimi blushes. "You _wouldn't_."

Mark shrugs. "Well, I'm going to need _something_ for my next film festival project."

"_Next_ project?" Roger asks. "What about _Proof Positive_?"

Everyone else in the group smiles knowingly.

"I sent the finalized cut in this morning. _Proof Positive_ airs at the New York City Film Festival in exactly two months."

"But, how did- who helped you with the edits?"

"I did, Roger." Tom scratches the back of his neck almost shyly. "Using one of the big computers at MIT."

Mimi gasps. "They let you back in!"

Everyone laughs now at Mimi and Roger's stunned expressions. The group now congratulates Collins, even though this isn't the first time they've heard the news.

Roger puts his arm around Mimi, chuckling in disbelief. "Anything else happen while we were gone? Did Benny win the lottery? Was one of my songs playing on the radio again?"

"We're adopting a baby," Maureen says cheerfully. "I told Pookie I didn't want one, but she said she's just _dying_ to be a mommy. And since I screwed her biological clock-thingy up, I figured it was the least I could do for her."

Joanne kisses Maureen's cheek. "She's been a good girl lately."

"_Hush_, Miss Ivy League, or we won't be breaking in those new sheets toni-"

"I think we'd better get these weary travelers home," Collins breaks in, rolling his eyes at Maureen's lack of self-consciousness. He grabs Aretha's hand, nodding to Roger. "You want to ride in Mark's van?"

"A car?" Mimi asks.

"Cohen got a _car?"_

Mark smirks at Roger. "If you think _that's_ amazing, just wait until you see the apartment."

* * *

The minute Roger sets foot in the apartment he shares with Mark, a gasp tumbles from his lips.

"Holy _Sex Pistols_, Cohen! Where'd you get all this freaking money?"

The "money" he's talking about refers to the new floors, walls, doors, and furniture. The furniture, in and of itself, amazes Roger, since they really had next to nothing before.

"We may not want to leave," Mimi teases as she takes Roger's hand.

"She's joking." Roger smiles. "But you really cleaned the place up good, Mark."

Mark grins. "You can thank our dear friends at Buzzline for that. You've missed a lot, Roger. It's good to have you back." He pounds Roger on the back and goes into the kitchen, rummaging around in the cabinets until he finds some coffee mugs. "How do you take your coffee, Mimi?"

"A little bit of cream, no sugar."

Roger pulls her down to sit beside him on the couch. "You know how I like mine?"

Mark starts up the coffeepot. "Black, of course."

Mimi sighs contentedly, swinging her legs over and resting them on Roger's lap. She closes her eyes and leans against the arm of the couch. "It's been a long week, hasn't it?"

"Sure has." Roger lays his hands on Mimi's legs, hardly able to believe his luck anymore. "I never thought we'd see the end of it."

"I know _I _didn't."

They both fall silent, pondering the solemnity of Mimi's words.

Roger realizes then that he has come very close to losing his new fiancée. Back in Spain, if he had arrived at the Marquez residence just a few minutes later, Ricardo would have been able to finish the brutality he had started before Roger had arrived.

Mimi lays her hands on top of Roger's, her thoughts echoing his almost identically.

Mark doesn't notice their shudders as he reenters the room, handing them their coffee. "So… when's the wedding, anyway?"

Back to the city.

"Well," Roger says happily, "we were thinking-"

"Tomorrow!" Mimi beams, giggling. "What do you think?"

Mark stares at them in silence, letting out a nervous chuckle. "You mean 'tomorrow' as in… Tuesday?"

"Yeah, that _would _be tomorrow." Roger laced his fingers through Mimi's. "Come on, Mark. What's up?"

"The film festival is tomorrow! There's no way I can skip out on that to see you guys get hitched!" He digs his fingers into his scalp. "Aw, why does it have to be _tomorrow!_ You absolutely _suck_ at planning-"

"Relax," Mimi says. "We're just pulling your leg. We're getting married next month."

Roger can't believe it. He really cannot grasp that the beautiful, wonderful young woman beside him is going to be his bride in exactly twenty-eight days. As disillusioned as living in New York City has made him, he can't help feeling a surge of hope, a lightness in his stomach, a flicker of promise for the future.

"I love you," he blurts out, and Mimi smiles broadly, leaning in for a kiss.

"I love you, too, baby."

Mark wonders if he should leave.

"You said the festival's tomorrow, right?" Roger says finally.

Mark is relieved. "Yeah."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world."

Mimi squeezes Roger's hand and slides off of his lap. "That reminds me, Mark. You wouldn't happen to still have that number for the rehab clinic lying around, would you?"

Her voice is sincere enough, and her eyes are bright, but Roger can't help feeling somewhat suspicious. She's tried to get clean before- on several different occasions, only to go back to shooting up or doing smack whenever his back was turned. What's going to make this time any different? He lays a hand on her arm, looking straight into her eyes. "Mimi."

She glances down at his hand on her arm before slowly meeting his eyes. "I love you, Roger."

_That's_ what's going to make this time different.

"I've got it," Mark breaks in. "I'll be right back."

He slips out of the room without making a sound, and when he returns, he's not at all surprised to find the other two standing with their arms around each other, Mimi's face buried in Roger's neck as tears run down her face.

"I love you," she says again.

"I know."

* * *

_Wish I could prove _

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

**Skye Also Says: **Thanks for sticking around so long. I love you guys! ^^

-hastily begins to type up epilogue-


	8. Epilogue: Simple and Clean

**Title**: Simple and Clean

**Author**: Skye Aerrow

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Characters**: Roger Davis, Mimi Marquez, Mark Cohen

**Summary**: He loves her… she loves him… so why are things so difficult?

**Skye Says**: Congratulations, folks! You made it to the epilogue! Hurrah! :D

I must say, I think I'm really going to miss this story, though.

* * *

Epilogue: Simple and Clean

_Wish I could prove_

_I love you_

_But does that mean_

_I have to walk on water?_

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

The days come and go, as do the weeks, until an entire month has passes with the changing of the winds. Twenty-eight blissful days fly by as the clock ticks on and on, as life moves on, as _love_ moves on.

Paradise.

Roger's heart is on fire as he checks himself out in the mirror. He can't believe his luck. In exactly fifteen minutes, he'll be marrying the most amazing woman he's ever met- a woman who spent more time in rehab than she did preparing for her wedding these past few weeks. Not that he's complaining- he would _much _rather have her clean and sober than have an idyllic, fantastic wedding. The wedding would be fantastic in-and-of-itself, anyway, because he was going to commit himself to Miss Mimi Marquez Davis for the rest of his wonderful life.

Beat _that._

"I think you screwed up on your tie," Mark teases, reaching over and helping him adjust it. "Good Lord, Davis, Mimi's going to think you're stupid if you can't even tie your own tie."

"Who asked you, anyway?" Mark smirks. "Just because you're the best man doesn't mean you can make fun of me on my wedding day."

Collins cracks the door and pokes his head in. "Twelve minutes, boys."

"Thanks," Roger mutters.

Collins disappears, and Mark finishes straightening Roger's tie. He begins to make another series of comments regarding some other imperfection of the groom's, but Roger is floating on cloud nine, and there is nothing his friend can do or say to bring him back down.

It's the happiest day of his life.

* * *

Aretha finishes putting the finishing touches on Mimi's hair just as Maureen slips the veil onto her head.

"You look great," Maureen says. "You're going to knock 'em dead."

Mimi grins, laughing giddily. The butterflies in her stomach have begun to swing dance. "Thanks, girls. I can't believe this is really happening. I can't believe I'm actually getting married today!"

Aretha squeezes her shoulder. "You're going to be one hot bride, honey."

"I don't like the priest, though," Joanne adds candidly. "He told Maureen and I we were going to hell just because we walked by him holding hands."

Maureen smilessoftly at Joanne, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You worry too much about what other people think, pookie."

"I know it."

Mimi and Aretha exchange amused glances as the couple kisssd, Mimi's mind shifting automatically to the moment when she and Roger would share their first kiss as husband and wife.

"Oh my God, honey bear, what time is it?"

Joanne blinks at Maureen and studies her watch. "Five minutes, Mimi."

The bride-to-be squeals and hastily applies her lipstick.

It's the happiest day of her life.

* * *

The church is by no means packed- no one really expects that, anyway- but a surprising amount of people have turned out to see the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Davis, and Roger can't help feeling anxious as he brushes by them to the front of the church.

The priest nods to him as he stands beside Mark and Collins, his two groomsmen.

Aretha, Joanne, and Maureen stand to the other side of the altar, simultaneous flashing grins at Roger.

The songwriter swallows, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

Music for his bride begins to play.

Then, the doors to the sanctuary are pushed open. There's a whoosh of air, and the crowd rises to their feet and turns to watch the bride's entrance.

Roger's breath catches in his throat.

A gorgeous young woman glides gracefully down the aisle, escorted by her brother, Carlos. Her dark hair is pulled back in an intricate updo, a few loose curls falling down to frame her face. Her dress is as pure as the driven snow, a reflection of how clean she has now become on the inside. It hugs her body in all the right places, billowing out around her legs.

She smiles at Roger with lips painted red, and flutters her suddenly-long eyelashes.

He really can't breathe anymore.

"Who gives this woman away?" the priest asks.

"Her brother, Carlos, does." Carlos leads his sister to the altar, just as he's supposed to, and kisses Mimi on the cheek before handing her off to Roger. "Take care of her, _amigo._"

Roger takes her hands in his. "I will."

"Dear friends, "the priest intones, "we are gathered today to witness and to celebrate the drawing together of two separate lives. We have come so that this man, Roger Davis, and this woman, Mimi Marquez, may be joined in marriage. Marriage is the perfect union of two souls, the united of separate hearts into one being. It is life at its fullest, love at its fullest, and the ultimate expression of commitment. It is not to be entered into lightly but with assurance and mutual respect. Love, the shining light of human emotion, reduces our selfishness, fulfills our need to share, and reinforces our virtues."

Roger can't hear a single word the priest says. He's already lost in Mimi's eyes.

The priest clears his throat and continues. "Out of chaos, let us pledge our unity, never losing sight of the individuality that has spawned and rejuvenated this love. Today's celebration of human affection is the outward sign of commitment, which religion may consecrate and society may formalize, but neither of which guarantees happiness. For in this fold must exist two minds full of loving purpose, willing to grow and not recede in the face of change. Beneath the benevolent spirit of affection and sharing, these two people stand before us."

The vows are coming soon, but Roger isn't sure he remembers the words.

_It's okay,_ Mimi mouths. _We can do this._

They've waited _forever_ to do this.

"Do you, Roger Davis," the priest says finally, "take Mimi Marquez, to be the wife of your days, to love and to cherish, to honor and to comfort, in sorrow or in joy, in hardship or in ease, to have and to hold from this day forth?"

His soul takes flight. "I do."

"And do you, Mimi Marquez, take Roger Davis to be the husband of your days, to love and to cherish, to honor and to comfort, in sorrow or in joy, in hardship or in ease, to have and to hold from this day forth?"

She's walking on air. "I do."

There's a slight pause as everyone seems to forget what comes next. The priest looks pointedly at Mark, who cries out in realization and whips the rings out of his pocket. "Sorry about that, everyone."

With shaking hands, Roger takes the rings from Mark, sliding one onto Mimi's finger and the other onto his own hand.

They glance down at the rings, and then gaze fondly at each other.

These two metal objects have just sealed their life together, and neither partner would have it any other way.

"May this couple, just married, draw strength from their agreement. Understanding, even in moments of despair, the virtues found in each other. Solace under fire, encouragement when life becomes a trial, sharing one another's joy and pain. Welcoming life's mysteries through the optimism found in their love. Growing wise instead of old, accepting the unwanted stranger that no one knows. Sharing today's inspiration, beyond the present, may this union only add to the goodness and joy of life."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest finished, nodding to Roger again. "You may now kiss the bride."

Love is the most beautiful thing either of them have ever know. So strange at first, and yet so simple. Love was passion, was purity, was a single spark of hope they'd carry on forever.

Roger pulls his new wife into a kiss, savoring a taste of heaven and the absolute bliss of an extraordinary marriage.

They had been through a lot these past few years. Disease, jealousy, anger, bitterness, drugs, and fear had nearly ripped them away from each other, but love had totally overcome all of the chaos.

_Out of chaos, let us pledge our unity…_

They are now lover and beloved.

Husband and wife.

Simple and clean.

* * *

_When we are older_

_You will understand_

_It's enough when I say so_

_And maybe_

_Some things are that simple_

* * *

**Skye Also Says: **That's all, folks. I've really enjoyed writing this piece, and I believe I now have a newfound appreciation for Mimi x Roger fics. This stuff is very angsty, but well worth the emotional anguish if you can get to the heart of their relationship to the purity and simplicity of their love.

Again, thanks to everyone who supported me in this, and as always, your reviews are much appreciated. ^^


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